Almost Lover
by angelface04
Summary: I should have known that you would bring me heartache. Almost lovers always do. [Anglina Johnson x Oliver Wood] DH Spoilers.


A/N: Written while listening to Almost Lover by A Fine Frenzy. You should download it this very moment. And also written for fanfic100 using Prompt 007. Days. **Read and Review, pretty, pretty please.**(And if you're getting sick of Angelina x Oliver stories, just let me know, and I'll write something else. :)

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**Almost Lover**

_So you're gone, and I'm haunted, and I bet you are just fine  
Did I make it that easy to walk in and out of my life?_

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_  
_

The waves lapped at her toes but she was numb to the coolness of the water. Her jeans were rolled up to her knees so the denim would escape the froth, but the sand was damp and soaking through it anyhow. The sky was overcast, having just rained, and she was shivering slightly, her arms folded across her chest.

"_It's not cold at all!" Golden hair fell into his eyes and he wrapped toned arms around her, tugging her into the waves with him. She shrieked as her bare feet hit the cresting wave, thrashing about in his arms._

"_Let go! Let go!" He laughed as she latched onto his neck, retreating farther into the frigid water. "My clothes, Ol, my__**clothes**__!"_

"_But it feels so amazing!" He insisted, his large brown eyes innocent. "I thought you__**liked**__swimming in the ocean!"_

"_Put me down!" She screamed, hitting his back with a tight fist._

"_As you wish." He replied cheekily. And in one quick motion he had pried her arms from around his neck, maneuvered her into his arms like a baby, and then dunked her under the freezing waves. She screamed as the air was ripped from her lungs by icy fingers. When he tugged her back up he was laughing and she was trying hard not to._

"_I-I-c-can't believe you wo-would do that!" She sputtered out._

_He smiled down at her._ _"I'd do anything you asked me to." And then he pressed chilly lips to hers._

Twenty-two days, eleven hours, and seventeen minutes. It felt like so much longer. She wasn't aware until that moment that she was keeping track of how long it had been. The wind whipped through her sweater and she wrapped it tighter around herself. For some reason he was still there when she woke up, still there when she made tea, still there when she showered. A gull cried from a few feet away, scuttling along the beach.

"_I woke up and you were gone." He peered around the doorway and studied her, sitting Indian style on the porch swing._

"_Can't sleep." She answered, smiling at him delicately. She didn't tell him that she was having nightmares again. There was no need to get him wrapped up in that. "Sit with me?" He complied quickly, a worried frown gracing his face._

"'_Course." He wasn't fully dressed, only a pair of flannel pants thrown on over his boxers. He threw an arm over the back of the swing and she curled into him easily, closing her eyes and savoring his warmth. His fingertips danced along her jaw-line, down her neck. There was a comfortable silence as the wind whipped around them, causing palm trees to sway and bushes to rustle. "You scared me." He finally whispered, kissing her temple. She stirred and glanced up at him. "I don't like waking up without you."_

"_I'm sorry," Came her murmur. A burning sensation ran up her chest at his heartfelt words and she smiled sadly. She had to tell him. It was too hard to keep inside. "It was about Fred this time."_

_He squeezed her shoulder tightly and she shut her eyes again, willing the sight of the redhead to leave her aching head alone._

"_I'm sorry, love." He wished, not for the first time, that he were enough to make her forget._

She stood, finally, her feet feeling like solid blocks of ice. She didn't bother to unroll her jeans or put her trainers back on, she just grasped one in each hand glanced down the water front. It was nearly deserted thanks to the time of day and the fact that it had been raining all night. She was due at work in an hour and she desperately needed to bathe, but she couldn't make her legs go any faster. She had been sucked into the movie reel of her memories that she'd tried more than once to destroy.

"_Forgive me." He whispered, smearing a tear off of her cheek and cradling her chin with his other hand. "I'm sorry."_

_She was shaking her head, her eyes closed. Though it was warm outside it felt freezing in here, cold and bitter and she was shivering._

"_Don't." She managed around a thick lump in her throat. He let his hands fall to his sides, his eyes full of a beautiful sadness._

"_It's for the best." He assured her, a quick hand coming up to trace over her lips once more. "I know you don't believe that, but it's true." She couldn't make herself move. Shouldn't she be throwing herself at him? Begging for him on her knees? Convincing him that he was being rash and throwing away what could have been everything?_

_He took a step back, towards the door, away from her, where his trunk was waiting. "Goodbye, Angie."_

"_Wait." She choked out, reaching a shaking hand towards him. He looked at her fingers, out-stretched and trembling. With a swift move he crossed the distance between them, planting his lips on hers with a sweetness that only came with good-byes. He felt her tears on his face as he tugged away._

"_I won't forget this." He promised, his eyes locking onto hers. His voice was sincere. She realized that much as he retreated. "I'll - I'll write you."_

Twenty-two days, eleven hours, and thirty-eight minutes. She slid the door back, entering slowly. Everything felt so slow now. After the whirlwind that had been Oliver Wood, the world felt so dull. She thought that she saw him sitting at the table, a piece of toast and a cup of coffee perched beside the Sports section of the paper, but it was only her imagination. His spot at the table was dusty. His mug had been sitting on the counter ever since she'd done the dishes the day after he left.

The shower did nothing to thaw out her body.

After she dressed she let in the post owl. After paying it, she delved through the mail. The Daily Prophet. Bill. Bill. Quidditch Magazine. Alicia's Baby Shower Invitation. And then a piece of parchment that she'd been dying and dreading to receive.

_Angelina,_

_I hope this finds you well. Or, better than I am, at any rate. I don't know if you've heard by now, but I had a pretty bad wipe out in my last game. Broke both my legs and now I'm lying in a bed all day every day. Couldn't just mend them either, my bones splintered or something. I don't know all of the technicalities, but it was too complex for them to just magic the bloody things back together._

_Anyhow, lying in bed for days with nothing to do leaves you a bit of time to think. And I know I should've owled long before now, just to check up on you, but I couldn't make myself. It was too difficult. I know that you probably don't believe that, but it's true. I've been thinking about you a lot, and about what we had, and I want you to know that I don't regret it. Not a single moment, including the moment that I left._

_I suppose that's not what you want to hear, and I feel like a git putting it like that, but it's true. I fell in love with you, Angelina, I'm not going to deny it. And I'm not going to pretend that I don't still have feelings for you. I knew from the get-go that you were going through a tough patch, what with your nightmares and…losing Fred. I know you didn't mean for me to be, but I felt as if I was a replacement for him. I just wanted to see you happy, like you used to be at school, but you weren't. No matter how long you try to deny it, I know it's true. I could see the sadness in your eyes and I couldn't wake up every day and look into them. Especially when there was nothing I could do to stop it._

_I'm not angry with you, never have been. I can attest to the fact that you can't help who you fall in love with, or who you don't. I just wish that you could've loved me as much as you loved him._

_-Oliver_

She didn't cry, she just pressed the letter onto the table with unsteady hands. Maybe he was right. Maybe she'd never really loved him like she'd thought she had. Maybe the depression that she'd fallen into was just another way of mourning for Fred. Maybe she'd been using him.

Without thinking about it, she'd crossed the room and picked up his mug, studying it carefully. It was dark blue with horizontal ridges in the ceramic every half-inch. She cupped it in both hands, turning it over, staring at it with blank eyes.

It was just a cup.

She swung open the cabinet and placed it inside. When she turned around, it wasn't Oliver she saw sitting at the table. It was Fred. His feet were propped up and he was leaning back in his chair precariously.

"I'm pretty irreplaceable, aren't I?" He questioned.

She nodded, and then she was, once again, staring at an empty chair at the table.

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_**So...**_


End file.
